


Yellow Snow

by PatPrecieux



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: M/M, Ugly Holiday Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 19:13:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8680093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatPrecieux/pseuds/PatPrecieux
Summary: Never make fun of your Governors suits





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just my wee contribution to the Ugly Christmas Apparel Challenge.

"I saw three ships come sailing in on Christmas Day on Christmas Day" wafted through the air of the pub where Robbie and James had gone for a pint after a grueling day.

"Hell's bells", Robbie snorted, "might at least wait till December pokes its nose in the air."

James smiled fondly at the older man. "Oh, I don't know. I'm rather looking forward to the holidays. Carols, peace on earth, Christmas jumpers."

"Jumpers? What's this all about then?"

"Well surely, Sir, you must know I relish every opportunity to see you in something other than your terrible selection of suits and ties. Or out of them for that matter." 

The waggling eyebrows and smirk from James forced a grin from Robbie in spite of his usual caution to his Sergeant of the need for discretion in such public places. Far from ashamed, he was still ever mindful of his young lovers career prospects. No one from the great police powers up above would be able to accuse James of trying to advance literally on his Inspectors back.

"So you ah," Robbie checked for eavesdroppers, "have impure thoughts about us in Christmas jumpers."

Pink rising on his neck and cheeks, James tugged at his suddenly too tight designer tie. "Ah, no,not us, just you. Afterall you can't expect me to.."

"Oi! So I'm to be the fashion disaster at the station parties alone? Think again clever clogs. And while you're thinking, our pints are as empty as any excuse you're working on. Get on with you!"

James slunk off towards the bar looking for all the world as if he'd been told to go stand in the corner. Robbies' holiday mood was getting brighter by the minute.

Several pints and a steak and kidney pie later, the two men walked in comfortable silence back to the car. Robbie stretched and tossed James the keys eliciting a good natured sigh. "Go on, say it. I know you want to."

Taking advantage of a dark carpark and no onlookers, Robbie kissed the startled blonde and purred, "Home James."

Rolling over into Robbie's arms, draping himself across the broad chest, James teased. "Remind me to write a Christmas song dedicated to your orthopedic mattress. Gloria in excelsis Deo."

Robbie's laugh was followed by a snort,"You romantic devil. Naught more likely to make me surrender my virtue than Latin in me bed."

"I'm nothing if not accommodating Inspector. Carpe diem."

"Sorry lad, still not a turn on. However, speaking about seizing the day, Sergeant."

Truth be told, James couldn't say if the Jumper Challenge came out of post-coital bliss, or a rare moment where he let his guard down around his mellow but shrewd boyfriend. The result, however, was a bet that whoever could make the biggest dent in their backlog of paperwork would win the privilege of selecting both of what would surely be their embarrassing Christmas  
jumpers. Let the Games begin!

Their abiding respect and affection for each other kept the competition mostly above board. Which is NOT to say that an occasional file or report wouldn't go briefly missing, or a nearly completed computer log might be deleted by "accident."

Between times, the caseload was mercifully light, but the workplace aggro was not. In her infinite wisdom, "Boss Lady" Chief Superintendent Innocent had decreed a Secret Father Christmas exchange and annointed Robbie and James as co-head elves in  
charge. The ribbing soon began.

CS Moody was his usual disagreeable self, "Going to make sure you two get each other, posh boy?"

James flushed and Robbie bristled growling, "Piss off Moody. This'll be run on the up and up providing of course we can find anyone willing to exchange with you if they draw your name."

That was enough to chase him away, but before James could express his thanks, DI Peterson made his smarmy, snide way to their desks.

"Here they are, the boys in tights." Seeing Robbie turn murderous, he hastened to add, "Elf tights of course. So, I suppose you too will be writing out the naughty and nice lists. Who gets a gift and who doesn't."

James sneered, "Not our job. Everyone will get their gift."

Peterson returned his sneer, "Well just the same, best we all see the lists first." He raised his voice to draw the attention of everyone in the room. "Hathaway's of course will be in Latin or Greek or Estonian or some such shit. Then again, I hear we're supposed to have quite a storm in the next day or so. That being the case, we can always go outside and read Lewis' list. He'll have fallen back on his Geordie education, and written his in yellow snow."

Despite how well liked the two men were, laughter,both nervous and otherwise, filtered through the room. James half rose from his seat, but Robbies hand on the back of his neck stilled him. It was a rare intimate touch between them at work, and James returned to his seat.

Robbie's smile was cold and feral, "Then I reckon everyones Christmas wish will be for snow." The Inspector making light of the crude remark sent everyone scurrying back to their duties.

No more was heard on the subject, and in the end, Oxford DID get it's snow. That snow was also, strangely, what determined the winner of the Christmas Jumper Challenge.

In the midst of the worst snow burst of the storm,against Robbie's caution, James slipped outside to smoke and unceremoniously fell on the ice. Mostly unscathed,he railed against Robbie's insistence on a trip to A&E and compromised on a trip to the morgue, ("This is my life." James moaned.) where Dr.Laura Hobson diagnosed a badly sprained wrist and a need to stop smoking.

Tucked away for the night at Robbies, James proclaimed himself the loser. "It's only right Robbie. I can't keep up with the computer work with one hand, and you were already dead even with me."

The older man gently caressed the head that rested in his lap, "Oh canny lad, that's only because you tutored me so expertly in me laptop skills." He grinned wickedly, "Speaking of laps and tops.."

James sat up to kiss Robbie's throat, "No diversionary tactics,Sir. You won fair and square and I'll take my medicine. Tomorrow you go out and buy those jumpers."

Robbie cleared his throat,"Fact is, luv, already got 'em."

"Yeah? Let me see." 

"If you're sure. Keep in mind James it's just meant to be fun."

"I know that. Now on with the show."

The next morning, James would think he hadn't laughed or loved so hard in a long time.

The day of the department Christmas party, the gift exchange was a great success, due in part to the whiskey eggnog.

Most of all however, the Holiday spirit was best expressed by one DCI Robert Lewis wearing a red jumper adorned with a Victorian Father Christmas seated at his desk making out his naughty and  
nice lists with a quill pen.

And across the room, playing Christmas carols on his guitar, DS James Hathaway cast an adoring look of love at his Governor while proudly wearing his new favorite jumper. It was bright green with an idyllic forest scene. In the center was Father Christmas, back turned, looking over his shoulder giving a saucy wink as he joyfully relieves himself whilst leaving his message of "Happy Christmas" written in yellow snow.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me Know Know Know if this made you Go Ho Ho Ho !
> 
> If you want to see the jumper, Google ugly Christmas sweaters and search Yellow Snow. Changed it a bit in the fic, but the theme is the same.


End file.
